The Adventure of the Missing Detective
by BlackRedandBold
Summary: When Holmes goes out on a potentionally dangerous case,  he doesn't come back. Now, it's up to Watson, vack from vacation, to find him. Lestrade may have his doubts, but Watson has hope.  Crappy summary is crappy, K for blood.
1. Chapter 1

I walked up Baker Street. It felt so good to be back at the old haunts! I couldn't wait to see all my old friends again, and get back into my work. But, mostly, I couldn't wait to see Holmes. He was my best friend, and we were inseparable. As I neared 221B, I saw Inspector Lestrade's carriage out front. I was used to the sight; Lestrade often called upon Holmes to help with cases from the Scotland Yard. I chuckled to myself, thinking of Lestrade's reaction to the condition of the house my companion had most likely left it in. I was in for quite a bit of spring cleaning. I opened the front door and stepped into the foyer. "Holmes?'' I called. No answer. He is probably asleep, I thought, It's still generally early for him, and he's a late sleeper. I started up the stairs to the sitting room. I suppose I'll just write down the details so Holmes can look at it later. You can imagine my surprise when I found not just Lestrade, but also Mrs. Hudson and Irene in the room! The girls had red and puffy eyes, a sure sign that something was very wrong.

"Watson, I have some unfortunate news. It's about- -"

"Holmes! Is he hurt?''

''No," Lestrade said. I breathed a sigh of relief. "Worse."

"What happened?" I yelped, alarmed.

"You see," began Lestrade, "your friend was sent on a case about a very dangerous man who had plans that might have ruined London. Holmes stopped this man, but the man got away. We at the Scotland Yard were determined to catch him before he could cause any further damages. I was going to send some of my best men to catch him, but Holmes insisted he be the one to go. I agreed. He promised to send regular telegrams regarding his progress, but it's been two weeks since he left, and we haven't got a single wind of him. This makes him missing... I fear him dead."

He said the last sentence with such certainty that it was almost as if he had known all along. It just couldn't be! I felt my throat swell.

"I- I need to go put away my bag," I stammered. I walked along the hallway, past Holmes' room, and I felt my throat swell more and tears spring to my eyes. As I put my luggage away, I silently wept for my friend. This couldn't be! How could Sherlock Holmes, the greatest detective who ever lived, the very man who survived the plummet from Reichenbach Falls, the most determined man I knew, go so quietly and unnoticed like this? I heard the three talking in the sitting room.

"This is a big shock to him, I don't think he will do it." said Lestrade.

"No, give the doctor a second chance!" Mrs. Hudson defended.

"He will do it, Lestrade," added Irene, "Don't doubt him."_ I don't think Irene believes Holmes is dead either..._

Looking into the mirror to check I appeared unfazed, I went back into the room.

"Watson, I have a- -"

"I heard. What is it you want me to do?"

"I need you to go down to the warehouse where we sent Holmes to recover his bo- - to find him."

"I'll do it."

"You leave tomorrow."

I didn't care what Lestrade thought, I knew that Sherlock Holmes wasn't dead- yet.


	2. Chapter 2

I didn't sleep that night. My mind was at war. Holmes couldn't be dead, that was for sure. But what happens when I find him? What if I never did? What if I was too late? I often was second away from falling asleep, but instead fell into a fitful doze where I had horrifying visions concerning my friend Holmes being taken away, Holmes critically injured, Holmes dead... I woke up from one of these to find it was morning. Getting ready for my trip was a blur. I packed a small bag, ate a quick muffin thanks to Mrs. Hudson, and started out the door. Mrs. Hudson ended up seeing me out. She gave me the various instructions Lestrade left me, and I bid her farewell.

"Doctor, wait," I turned back around. She handed me my medical bag. "I believe you are going to need it. When you find Holmes- not if, but when- I suspect that he will be injured, knowing him." I thanked her and turned around.

"Dr. Watson, one more thing," she called as I started to find a hansom. Mrs. Hudson rushed towards me. "I will not ever forgive you- or Holmes- if you die. It won't be the same without your schoolboy antics." At that she hugged me, and I set off. Lestrade had instructed me to take a boat across the Thames to the other side of London. A captain James knew the whole situation, and would meet me at the shore. Afterwards, I was to find an inn- the White Rose- and check in. The location I was to travel was a warehouse close to the inn. I was to send a telegram regularly- or they would assume Von Sagewood had gotten me, too. Lestrade told me to be prepared for the worst- the suspect, Von Sagewood, was a very dangerous man. I inferred what he really meant. As soon as I had gotten to the inn, it was getting dark, and I was exhausted. As soon as I reached my room, I fell into a blissful, dreamless sleep.

The next morning I inquired the innkeeper about the alleged warehouse.

"You walk two blocks north of here, and then one more east," he spoke, with a thick Cockney accent. "You know, another man kinda like you asked me 'bout the same warehouse few days ago. Haven' heard from him since. Hope nothing bad happened to him." I turned away, a bit overcome with emotion. At the door, I briefly wondered if I should bring my medical bag, but decided against it; IT would be a strange site indeed to see a stranger bringing a dark lantern and a medical bag into an old warehouse. I walked to the warehouse. It was bigger than I had pictured it to be. I stepped in, shutting the door behind me. It was loftly, cold, and there was absolutely no light or windows, from what I could tell. I was at that moment very glad I decided to bring my dark lantern. I looked around. Scattered about were chairs, sofas, and tables (even a few pianos) all covered with white cloths. One in the center of the room caught my attention- the sheet was disfigured in such a way that it looked like something was hidden under it. I was moving to pull it off when the warehouse door opened. In a mad dash I quickly turned out the lantern and dove under the settee (Thank the Lord it was high enough) as the person moved towards the very place I was hiding. They pulled the sheet back a little, took something out of a bag, thought better of it, put it back, replaced the sheet, and left. As soon as they left, I shot up from under the settee and pulled the sheet off. There was Sherlock Holmes, unconscious, bruised, and bleeding.

**I would like to thank the anonymous reviewer ****dayja**** for pointing out a very schtupid mistake I made ^^; I really need to re-read my stories after I go on hiatus, no? Sorry about the mix-up!**

**I really want to re-write this, but a naughty Mr. Hyde has decided to invade my mind. Blargh, Small manic scarecrow…**

**R&R!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: MY DEAR READERS HOW I HAVE NEGLECTED YOU SO. This story, untouched, for FOUR MONTHS. My god. I am a horrible author XD I have been distracted into other fandoms. BUT here is Chapter 3, in all of its glory. At long last! Yell at me all you must.**

At first, all I did was stare in astonishment. Holmes was so pale and it looked like he had lost a lot of blood. I took his sinewy wrist and found a pulse. It was weak, but there. He wasn't dead. Lestrade was wrong. Holmes shifted a bit, and his eyes opened, though with some effort. He looked around, and then focused on me. Despite his dazed state, the recognition was instant.

"W-Watson? Is it truly you?"

"Holmes! Good God, what have you gotten yourself into this time?" He tried to sit up, but couldn't manage. Hating to see him struggle, I pulled him up into a sitting position.

"Von Sagewood, it was all him! The killings, the disappearances…" Holmes struggled to explain. I cut him off gently.

"Holmes, you are in a horrible condition to be trying to recall this. I promise I will contact Lestrade as soon as-"

"Watson, he tortured us! The others, I fear dead, but their screams will haunt me…" Holmes looked off into the distance, a pained and hollow expression on his face.

"Can you stand?" I broke into his thoughts.

"I don't know." He coughed into his hand, and pulled it away quickly. From the small instant I saw it, I could see something red and thick glistened in the dim light of the lantern.

"Watson, it was all right in front of me! I do not understand how I could have missed this! I could have prevented these murders, Watson!" He coughed up more blood. The situation was becoming direr by the second.

"Don't worry about that now. We need to get you out of here and you need medical attention!"

"I—"

"Please don't speak anymore, you need to save energy. Can you stand?" I repeated. He nodded weakly. I helped him up with some effort, and we slowly made for the door. It seemed luck was on my side again, as it was late by the time we were out of that dreadful warehouse, and there was no one to gawk at our slow procession back to the inn. As we neared the door, Holmes spoke again.

"Watson… I- I'm sorry you had to go through this… I am not that important-" I gently cut him off.  
"Holmes, you are my best friend," _And now delusional,_ I thought, " and have gotten me out of more horrid situations than I would like to recall. Besides, I have no family left now that Mary is gone – Well besides you."

"I am family?" He said distantly.

"Yes, Holmes, family. We may not be brothers in blood, but we are in blood." He smiled and we made our way up to my rooms. The settee would do for a bed until I could catch a train back to London. Remembering Lestrade's wish, as soon as Holmes was tended to and asleep, I sat at the desk to write a telegram to Lestrade.

_Lestrade,_

_Holmes alive, though injured. Will catch next train to London, where he can tell you the details. I believe he has solved the case._

_-Watson_

_Take that, Lestrade,_ I thought as I headed for my own bed.

**A/N again: The reason why this is so late is because the rough draft was actually written a while ago, and it was SO SLASHY. IT HURT TO READ. And by that I mean it was bromancy too much that EVERYONE WOULD TAKE IT AS SLASH. I attempted to revise it many times, but gave up. ARRGGH. But here it is! Still bromantic, but not to the extreme! Also: Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is now up there in my favorite stories, and *otherwise (on deviantart)'s version of them is simply AMAZING. I am thinking of a crossover! After all, they were both set in the late 1880's, I believe. Long A/N is long, read and review. SORRY ABOUT THE WAIT, AGAIN OAO..**

**P.S. Sequel yes/no? TELL ME IN YOUR REVIEW! A sequel would be actually delving into the case.**


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